Prophet and Archangels Domestic 'Verse
by glass-jars
Summary: Short little things of Chuck living with his angels, Michael and Lucifer.
1. Licorice Rockies (Lucifer x Chuck)

"Lucifer—" Chuck covered his face with his hands. Stood still for a few drawn-out seconds. Finally, "Lucifer, what the fuck are you doing?"

Lucifer looked up from where he sat at the kitchen table. Its surface was littered with little black cardboard boxes and a several small brown bottles. Lucifer swallowed a mouthful of licorice and said, "I'm poisoning my vessel in the interests of science." He gave Chuck a sharp grin, and popped what seemed to be the very last piece of candy into his mouth. He followed it with the final drops from a bottle of vanilla extract, and leaned back in his chair.

Chuck couldn't think of anything particularly coherent to say, so he sputtered, "_What?!_"

"Nick's heart appears to be attempting to stop, and his kidneys seem to be shutting down, as well." Lucifer yawned. "This body is suffering from symptoms of licorice overdose... and possibly alcohol poisoning. Not as clear on that one." He paused. "Fascinating. I won't let anything happen, of course." Grabbed one of the little brown bottles, and read off the label. "Pure vanilla extract. It's at least 35% alcohol, to fit the FDA's requirement for pure vanilla. This vessel can certainly feel it."

Chuck remained at a loss for words.

Eventually he settled on, "Jesus fucking Christ, Lucifer."

Lucifer shot him an innocent smirk. He stood, and began to push all the little cardboard boxes into a pile. He suddenly seemed to experience some kind of epiphany, because he froze for a moment, staring wondrously down at the table, and snapped his fingers. The table cleared. He planted his hands on his hips and shook his head before looking up at Chuck and saying, "If I'm not mistaken, it's affecting me."

"Yeah? Yeah—well—" Chuck wrung his hands and scurried over to Lucifer. "Just—what is _wrong_ with you? Okay? What the heck?!" He grabbed at Lucifer's shoulders. Despite Lucifer's angelic abilities, Chuck couldn't help but worry just a little bit. After all, the heavyset man was actually a little unsteady on his feet. Not in a dangerous, swaying way, but in a slightly-more-clumsy-than-he-ought-to-be way. Tipsy.

Lucifer just smirked wider and settled his arms around Chuck's waist. He leaned into Chuck's personal space until their noses brushed. "Are you concerned about me, Prophet?"

Chuck frowned. "Concer—no." He shook his head. "No way."

He got a laugh in return, and Lucifer's breath reeked of licorice and vanilla.

"You smell like a bag of licorice rockies." Chuck frowned. He let Lucifer steer him into the chair at the kitchen table.

"Did you know," Lucifer sank down to straddle Chuck's lap, with a slow, predatory smile. "that both vanilla and licorice have been used as aphrodisiacs throughout history?" He licked his lips.

If anyone else had done it, Chuck might have laughed, but he way Lucifer carried himself and the way his slit tongue flicked out for a brief moment had Chuck frozen in his seat, enthralled. He tried to think of something to distract himself, or to kill the rapidly more sexual mood.

It didn't work.

He couldn't come up with any thoughts other than, "Holy shit, why is Satan hot?"

As if he could read Chuck's mind, Lucifer laughed, and leaned in close. He whispered, "Sexy, aren't I?" He paused for half a moment. "I can stop, if you want me to. But I do so desire to kiss you, at the moment."

"I—that's fine." Chuck nodded. "You're good—well, not literally _good_ but I mean—"

Lucifer cut him off with a kiss. Chuck had to admit it worked pretty well in silencing him. For a few minutes, even. Though the longer Lucifer kissed him, the harsher Chuck breathed through his nose, so utter silence didn't last very long. Especially when Lucifer angled his mouth differently, and Chuck accidentally squeaked.

He felt his cheeks heat up, as Lucifer pulled back to look at him.

Lucifer grinned. "Would you like to... move this elsewhere?" He raised his eyebrows, perhaps a little mockingly, and drew his cold fingertips down Chuck's arms. Chuck took a moment to think, but ultimately, it was an easy choice. He nodded, and let Lucifer pull him to his feet. Followed him down the hall to the bedroom they shared with Michael—Michael was grocery shopping, otherwise he probably would have intervened before Lucifer decided to devour such a ghastly amount of candy and extracts.

As Lucifer pulled Chuck into the bedroom, he shut the door with his foot. He pushed Chuck toward the bed, moving like molasses, breathing out vanilla fumes. A few rather rough kisses, licorice-flavored. Chuck's knees hit the edge of the mattress, and he sat with a whump. Lucifer grinned. Pushed Chuck down against the bed, trapping him under his body, dropping more kisses on Chuck's lips. (Too sweet, and a little warmer than usual.)

Chuck wrapped his arms around Lucifer's shoulders and his legs around Lucifer's waist and kissed back.


	2. Pressing Flowers (Michael x Chuck)

Chuck fiddled with the flower press. It had been Lucifer's idea. He wanted to buy it, to smash flowers—so he could glue them to the wall or something destructive, probably. But he'd immediately lost interest in them. So Chuck sat on the threadbare couch with a flower press in his lap, spinning the wingnuts between his thumb and forefinger. He loosened one, and tightened another, and so on and so on, just messing with them. There were no flowers in the press. He just liked the way wingnuts twirled.

The front door opened, and the floor creaked as someone entered the house. Michael, probably. Lucifer was never so quiet when he came home. Chuck looked up. Sure, enough, Michael walked into the living room, with a bouquet under his arm.

"Good afternoon, Chuck."

Chuck grinned. "Hi, Michael." He set the flower press aside and stood up. As he walked over to greet Michael with a kiss, he asked, "Are those for me?"

"Of course." Michael pushed the beribboned cluster of wild roses and violets into Chuck's hands. He kissed Chuck's face and smiled the slightest bit—a very Archaic kind of smile that nonetheless warmed his entire demeanor. "I would never buy flowers for Lucifer. He would only light them on fire, or something equally destructive." He shook his head. "Anyway, he doesn't deserve flowers."

"You're right." Chuck laughed and poked at the flowers. He sniffed one of the purpley-pink roses. He paused, and stroked one of the petals. "Does that mean _I_ deserve flowers? Or did you just... just feel like buying some?"

Michael laughed quietly and urged Chuck toward the couch, with a hand at the small of his back, warm. They sat down together and he said, "You certainly deserve flowers." He kissed Chuck's neck.

Chuck blushed. "Th—uh... Thank you, Michael."

"You're welcome." Michael looped his arm around Chuck's waist. He noted the bolted-together pieces of plywood that made up the flower press on the side table. He reached for it, and fiddled with the screws. "One of Lucifer's forgotten toys?"

"Uh... yeah." Chuck's nose wrinkled. He spun one of the wingnuts with the tip of his finger.

Michael shook his head and plucked one of the roses and one of the violets from the bouquet in Chuck's arms. He fiddled with them, until satisfied—picked off any extra bits of stem. With a content, focused expression, and a little smile, he opened the flower press so he could set the blossoms on the lower board. Then he put it all back together. Twirled the screws until they held the boards together tightly. "In a while, we'll have some pretty dried flowers, hm?"

Chuck smiled and took the press from him. "We can put them in a picture frame or something when they're all dried out."

Michael nodded and pulled Chuck against his side. "Absolutely."


	3. Suncatcher (Michael x Chuck and Lucifer)

Chuck glared at the flower press. He frowned and pushed at the wings of the screws and even grunted a little, but they wouldn't budge. "Dammit, Michael—you closed these too tight!" He let out an exasperated breath and continued his attempt to loosen the wingnuts. They, in turn, continued to remain absolutely fast. Chuck gave up after a few seconds, hand sore, and sighed as he leaned back in his chair. He glowered at Michael.

Michael snorted and moved over to the table. "All you needed was to ask for assistance." He sat beside Chuck, smiling slightly, as if laughing at some little joke inside his brain, and took the press from the smaller man's hands. "I'm willing to open it." He twisted each wingnuts until they popped off, and lifted away the top board to reveal the flattened, dried out flowers. Soft pink. He barely brushed a finger across one.

"Do you have someplace you'd like to put them?"

Chuck shrugged.

Shaking his head, Michael stood. He disappeared into the hallway for a minute or so. Made rustling noises. From the sound of things, he nearly dropped something. But he emerged from the hall unscathed with a little box in his arms. He set it on the table and said, "I'm not entirely certain where this is from or when we acquired it, but I remembered we own it."

He took the lid off the shoebox. There were some tubes of paint inside. A few square glass bottles. Glaze and the like. Some little polygonal glass sheets and metallic tape of some kind.

"I think it's a prism-making kit—not the paint, obviously. But some of it." He took out two sheets of the clear glass or plastic. They were identical, and diamond-shaped, with beveled edges. About the size of Chuck's hand if he squeezed his fingers together.

Michael pulled out his phone—somehow, despite being an angel, he'd roped Chuck into buying him an iPhone—and tapped at it a few times. Googled how to make suncatchers. When he seemed satisfied, he pocketed his phone and rummaged around in the box.

Together, Chuck and Michael ended up pasting the two little pressed flowers onto the flat side of one of the glass diamonds, and they covered the flowers with rice paper. Used a diluted concoction of glue to hold the glass together.

While the glue dried, Michael made lemonade. He put extra sugar in Chuck's.

Chuck wrapped the metal tape around the edges of the joined glass. He sipped at his lemonade and frowned.

"How are we gonna hang this? There's no... Well, there's no hole."

"Oh." Michael tapped the tabletop beside the (somewhat crude-looking, to be honest) suncatcher. He hummed. "We could probably use the copper tape to make... eyelets, of a sort." He fiddled with the crystal and the tape. He made very careful loops with it on the top corner of the diamond, and frowned while he worked. Eventually he seemed satisfied, with a little hole to hang the piece. He held it up. "Either we hang it on a ribbon or we nail it to the wall."

Chuck went to find a stray ribbon.

Eventually, the beveled glass diamond hung in the window, from an organza ribbon the color of champagne. It glinted in the sunlight, and sent tiny rainbows to play on the far wall of the living room. It bounced a little, when the front door slammed, and the rainbows danced. It swung lightly. Lucifer walked into the room, and paused in the doorway.

He grinned.

"You guys are so domestic. It's disgusting."

Chuck scowled at him.

Lucifer laughed and walked over to give them both a kiss on the cheek. He stood between them, and wrapped an arm around each of their waists, and muttered, "I guess it's kind of pretty."

Michael pinched him.


End file.
